


Damned

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Collection: Fandom Stocking 2015, F/F, Kissing in the Rain, Romance, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rain always drew Casey to people. The right people too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/gifts).



> Written for Fandom Stocking for Anaraine’s Stocking. Thanks for giving me another chance to write Casey/Bela.

The damned woman looked like a drenched cat in the rain. Her long hair had been hanging in front of her face as Casey watched her dig, but now it was sticking to her cheeks and forehead in dark, wet clumps.

The rain always drew Casey to people. The right people too.

She stepped forward a few inches, hung to the woman’s right. She would be able to see her if she turned her head ever so slightly, no doubt, but she was so focused on the ground and the dirt and the shovel in her hand that she was aware of nothing else but her own troubles. The demon could feel the time ticking away in the woman, could feel her dying more and more as each second passed. Some humans died ever so slowly, wasting away from grief and guilt and hatred, from sicknesses they created. The woman - girl - in front of her, buried knee deep in mud, she didn’t have a choice. She did before but not anymore.

Casey shook her head and tsked. Sad little human. She could offer to help her dig; it was probably the last thing in the world that mattered to her now.

She finally glanced up at her, rain drenched face not enough to hide her recent tears. Casey could see it as clear as day: marked by Lilith, less than two weeks. And here she was, down in the dirt, _digging._ Or burying. Casey glanced down and noticed her hand was reaching into her coat pocket for something, most likely a gun.

“Don’t bother.” She blinked to make sure Bela knew what she was. Even in the darkness Bela’s eyes widened, the message had been clear, but she still pulled out her gun. Casey let her. It wasn’t like a little gun could do much damage.

“Have you come to collect?”

The demon took the shovel from her and started digging. Her nails had been ruined by the night’s earlier events anyway. Considering she was marked by Lilith, Casey knew the girl’s name, but it was in her nature to still ask for things. Gil had never been like that, he couldn’t be bothered with details or niceties. Maybe that neglect had gotten him killed and kept Casey alive to wallow in wretched human-like grief. Maybe Casey had just gotten lucky too. The wrong side of luck.

Too bad she didn’t believe in luck.

“I’m not in the collecting department, sweetheart,” she admitted. Bela relaxed marginally, hand wrapping around the shovel again. Casey let her have it back but she didn’t make a move to pick it up and start digging again. She considered herself patient, unfortunately her curiosity often won out. “Burying or digging? Couple bodies you’ve gotta hide?”

Bela dropped to her knees, hands sinking into the wet earth and fingernails clawing the dirt away. Whatever the item was it must be close. Bela’s ticking down clock had been like a beacon to Casey, and the rain had no doubt brought her here, but there had to be another reason.

Casey got down on her knees and helped. Even if it all meant nothing. Even if everyone who willingly sold their soul lost their mind eventually. “You’re looking for something, huh?”

“Look,” Bela said, without glancing up at her. “If they sent you to make sure I didn’t back out on my deal, then fine. Just stop with the niceties. I haven’t got time for conversation.”

“What’s your name?” Like Casey said, it was always worth asking. Always worth taking the time. Humans rarely ever took the time to do things or ask things anymore. They always jumped away to the subjects that only pertained to them, viewing all else inconsequential.

Bela was angry, angry at herself, angry at the world, but it was her cross to bear.

She stopped digging, clearly touching something underneath the thin layer of dirt remaining. “You already know the answer to that question. And I remember you. Bartender two states over. Can’t remember the name of the bar.”

Truth be told, Casey hadn’t remembered her. More than one person had come in that night with a bought and paid for soul that was no longer theirs, just in their bodies until it was ripped out. Casey would think about the hell hounds tearing apart their victims, everyone deserving of it. Usually it brought her a sense of justice and solace, if she even believed in the former anymore, but the rain on Bela’s face looked too much like blood in the dark, and Bela’s soul was not burdened with guilt.

“So, Bela.” She rolled the name over her tongue, enjoying the taste of it. “Or should I call you Abby? I bet it’s been such a long time since anyone called you that.”

Bela lifted herself up out of the small hole she dug herself in. Casey wondered what she had sold her soul for: money, beauty, power. Bela’s soul didn’t leak either one of those things though, it had to be something more tricky than that. The truth was that it wasn’t Casey’s place to know, or care, that no one else of her kind would bother to do either, but Casey wasn’t like the rest of her kind.

Casey watched her, waiting for her to pull out her gun again, one that would work little damage on her. But she liked Casey and she wanted to take care of her body while she was inhabiting it. That meant putting a limit on alcohol consumption; making sure to eat at least two meals a day that didn’t consist of peanuts, pretzels and nachos; and being extra careful with her vessel, which meant minimal scarring and bruising and preferably no bullet holes.

Gil had never understood this need to respect the vessel, claiming it only meant a respect for humankind, yet he had loved her and never once expressed that love as a human-like weakness. And she had loved him.

Now there was only her and Casey, and this damned girl standing in front of her that suddenly didn’t look more than fifteen years old. Cold, shivering, two weeks left to live. Casey couldn’t touch her, nothing and no one could touch her save Lilith and her minions.

Bela stumbled, the dirt collapsing under her, the soles of her boots cased in mud and Casey grabbed her to prevent her from falling and pulled Bela to her and kissed her. She couldn’t kill her, she couldn’t save her, but she could grab Bela’s rain drenched face in her own two hands and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe anymore, Lilith be damned.

The human made a noise but she didn’t try to pull away. The rain was coming down harder now and Casey pulled them both onto stable ground. Her fingers tangled themselves in the mess of Bela’s hair and she found heat in her mouth, tasted Bela’s disintegrating blood as she bit the human’s lip. Tasted what it was like to die.

Bela’s hand pressed itself against the space where Casey’s heart was, shuddering in her chest. Casey pulled herself back, licking her lips. Only the rain separated them now.

She could read Bela as an open page, a broken thing, like a bird fluttering around in its cage and Casey the cat, heart thumping in her chest, paw swiping through the air. Bela had sold her soul for murder, for killings that were justified in her own mind. The human’s hand over Casey’s heart curled, seeking something the demon couldn’t give her for long.

“I don’t have a place,” Casey said, words choked in the chill of the rain. “But I have a car.”

Bela nodded. “Leather seats, not ruining them now. You saw it, didn’t you? You’re not here to… judge me.”

“Demons don’t judge.” They didn’t, not like humans. Humans breathed for the convictions they held, for what they thought they would never stoop down to but inevitably did. It was a sad portrait they painted for themselves. Humanity was pitiful, weak. Casey wouldn’t judge Bela for any of it. “Demons don’t like the rain either.” _I do._

“Then why are you out here? None of this…,” Bela breathed hard, hand pressing tighter against Casey’s skin. “This world, this _place_ , none of it makes any sense.”

Casey shook her head. “It’s not supposed to.” _You, me and time._ She caught sight of something metal down in the hole, glinting, winking up at the two of them.

Bela followed her line of sight. She lowered herself down, hand stretching toward the pendant and snatching it up. Casey could hear her fingernails scraping against the silver. “It was my mother’s. I buried it, and now I’ve come back to burn it.”

“Did I mention I have a bottle of bourbon in my car? No leather seats. Just a rusty old stereo, a shattered mirror, a bottle of something good and the open road.” She could hear Bela thinking, could practically hear her saying no. “I don’t want anything. Or expect anything. I lost someone a while ago and I guess I’m just looking for some company. The conversation doesn’t matter, since I’m not much one for talk.” She thought about that. If the truth wasn’t worth saying she still said it anyway, like it was a curse no one could escape from. Casey liked words though, liked what humans could do with them. “I do like a good poem sometimes.” She eyed the human’s mud-caked boots. “Or a nice pair of heels. Let’s face it, you’re damned, I was already damned a long time ago. And you’ve got two weeks left, sugar. Might as well spend it drinking and with company.”

She remembered Bela’s hand over her heart. She could feel Casey squirming inside her, told her to lighten up. Bela wasn’t the worst company, in some ways she was the best.

Two weeks later that was still the singsong tune in her head, the imprint of a hand carved into her skin, cleansed with bourbon.

**FIN**


End file.
